Nishi
by prettyredfox
Summary: You can't resist. It wants you to come outside. Sam/caring cause he has his soul back Dean/hurt.
1. Prologue

^^Okay. I know I haven't finished the other story I'm working on. But I shall! I promise! I'm already working on its next chapter! Ahem. Anyways…this one takes place after Sam gets his soul back, because, frankly, I'm freakin' happy about him getting it back and want to do one.

This one I actually did research on Japanese lore to create my storyline!

Nishi: An evil spirit that calls people out by name from their home at night. They can only call the person's name three times.

Why only three? Hell if I know its Japanese lore! They have odd rules. Eh, I guess if they could call your name as many times as they wanted, they wouldn't be scary. Just annoying.

Prologue:

=3 Antrim, Michigan

"_David."_

The dark haired man jerked awake, a scream dying in his throat, his arm snaking out to catch himself on the couch as the news blared loudly from the television set. He blinked, sitting up and looking around for the remote. He figured it to be in his best interest to get upstairs to bed before his wife, Joyce found out he'd fallen asleep in front of the TV again, an empty bottle of beer resting on the coffee table. She'd nag him to an early grave if she kept on his case about his new insomnia troubles. David stood, swaying slightly and yawning behind a closed fist, his destination being to lock the front door. There may've not been any houses around for miles, but Joyce seemed to think if a wild animal wanted in they'd use the door knob.

"_David."_

He froze, hand outstretched for the door lock. His eyes glazed over and he fell forwards to lean his throbbing head against the door, arms trembling as they strained to keep him up. Shadows slid out from behind the couch and from beneath the stairs, coming to surround him, whispering and making weeping noises. His back went ramrod straight, mouth slack with fear as he silently opened the front door and stepped outside. A fine mist formed wet tracks down his cheeks, dampened his sleep-wrinkled clothes and soaking his stocking feet, but the man didn't feel any discomfort. He didn't bother to close the door behind him. His eyes were all too focused on the darkness creeping alongside him, scraping at the back of his ankles, urging him farther from the safety of his home. His feet stopped moving when he was standing next to his mailbox. The little fairy statues his wife had set up for decorations were staring at him with mischievous eyes.

"_Oh, David." _A voice cooed at him, a chilled hand stroked his cheek lovingly like one would for comfort. Yet, he did not feel comfort. Only fear as the dark creatures seemed to snarl and nip at each other in excitement. _"Thank you, for your gift."_

He was still alive and wondering how he'd allowed himself to be lured outside when teeth sank into the back of his skull and a pain so fierce shook him and there was a sound much alike that of a melon being popped open. He would have cried out and sank to his knees if he'd been able to move. His vision dying along with him, he could still see the jeering crowd of darkness watching, creeping closer.

Then there was nothing.

=3

"What the hell's in Antrim, Michigan, anyways?" Dean grumped, fingers tapping in rhythm to a Metallica tape.

Sam sent him a withering look from the Impala's passenger seat and went back to the road map in his lap. "Bobby's a friend there who says there have been four victims in the past six months. All of them died in the middle of the night in their front yards."

Dean quirked his eyebrow. "Why do think it's our type of thing?"

"They all willingly left their houses. They all live out in rural areas of the country and their families didn't hear anything-didn't even know they were gone until the next morning."

"Maybe they sleep walk."

"What? Do you even-oh, never mind! They also all had the backs of their heads chewed open and scratches all over their bodies. The occasional…hunk of meat was missing, too."

"Somebody ate him?" Even if it wasn't a supernatural thing, since the Benders he hadn't cared much for cannibalism. Dean tilted his head to the side, and then gave his brother a smirk. "Well, okay, then. We have ourselves a case, Sammy!"

"Just 'Sam', please." Sam replied back, though he was smiling. A happy Dean makes for a much nicer car ride than an unhappy Dean did. Though it was best he kept awake until they bunked down for the night. A happy Dean also likes to do crap to you while you nap.

Dean scoffed, turning off the interstate onto a road that seemed to have miles of green grass and coast line. "Sure, _Sammy_. Whatever you say."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

=3

Dean was still grinning when he handed the hotel manager one of his many credit cards, receiving a room key in charge. He had his brother back and though he had for a few months or so, he couldn't help but marvel at this. His actual brother, not the soulless entity that'd tried to pass for Sam. _His_ Sam. His sweet, caring, puppy dog-eyed little brother.

He felt like laughing. But since he figured that wouldn't help to keep up his reputation, he'd settle for grinning like an idiot. Not much better, but he couldn't seem to stop. His mouth did it without his consent. He saw Sam leaning against the Impala, smiling as he watched and waited for him with their gear in the duffle bag tossed over his shoulder. Dean quickened his stride. They had another hunt. When they got inside he'd convince his brother to do the research on what they were dealing with and he'd go out to hunt down some food-

"_Dean." _

His body went on lock down and he froze, eyes glazing in confusion. He saw something skulking out of the corner of his eye and his mouth went dry. Dark creatures stretched into view from behind cars and pillars, their numbers yawning across the parking light as they all reached out to him. He couldn't avoid their seeking fingers, couldn't shy away from their promising caresses. He couldn't move. Couldn't defend himself, couldn't-

They seemed to want to swallow him whole, gnashing their jaws together-

"Dean!" He blinked, and the shadow creatures he'd seen inking from hidden pockets sank back to their hiding places. Sam was standing in front and he was confused because, hadn't his brother been standing by the Impala a second ago? Sam's eyes were blown wide with worry and concern and once again Dean was marveling at how wonderful his brother's emotions were. He took comfort from the large, tan hands gripping tightly at his biceps, wondering faintly if they'd been placed there because he'd been about to fall over. He hadn't felt unstable. In fact, he'd felt stiff as a board. "Dean! What's wrong, man! Talk to me!"

"Sorry." Dean said, clutching at his temple as it throbbed suddenly; leaving a dull ached in its wake. "I'm alright, Sam." At his brother's look he grinned again. How could he not with Sam giving him that stern, concerned look? "Really. 'M not really sure what happened, but it's gone now."

Sam still felt doubtful. The sudden, gut clenching fear at seeing his brother's eyes check out and his face grow pale, the freckles sticking out like beacons, was still present. Dean's color had yet to come back. What was he supposed to do here? His hand rose, almost automatically, to rest on his brother's forehead. To his surprise, his brother didn't yank his head back; he didn't even open his mouth to complain.

Sam let his hand fall back to his side, face wrinkled in thought.

"Well?" Dean asked and Sam raised an eyebrow in question, silently telling him to elaborate. "What's the verdict, doc?"

"No fever." Sam murmured, still looking as if he were deep in thought. "We should probably get inside. Before anybody notices we've been standing outside for the last twenty minutes."


	2. Chapter 1

^^Heya folks! Thank you for all the reviews! I hope that you like this chapter as well! By the way, in case you're wondering, I made up the shadow creature part. They don't talk about anything like that in the legend, but I thought they were cool sooo…..

Chapter 1

=3

Surprisingly enough, he didn't dream of Hell. He dreamt of stalking shadows with sharp teeth and dark intentions. When you had a job like he did, you grew used to nightmares (Some nightmares. The ones of his past time in Hell were a little harder to grow used to) even the ones that made you wake up still thinking your there. Usually, when he had dreams about Hell, it'd take him a while to remind himself that he'd been rescued from that place long before. This dream though, the one he was presently enduring, was different.

The shadows whispered and pleaded to him, their fingers clinging to his skin, tugging at his hair, teasing their teeth at his temple as if they craved to sink them into his brain and hang on. They squealed in delight, dancing around him; sometimes so fast all he could see was a funnel of black. Then a voice echoed, and he could feel it rumble deeply through him as if it were scraping its claws over his soul.

"_Come to me." _They said, and he shuddered, not knowing which one spoke and wanting to sink away. He found his body immobile again, as if his muscles and tendons were sewn together with string. _"You belong to me now."_

He what? His eyes stung and blinked several times, thoughts of waking up tinkling at the back of his mind. He really should wake up before Sam noticed something was up. Last thing he needed was his brother worrying before he figured out what was plaguing him. But what of the voice? The voice needed him to-

No. No he didn't belong to anybody but his family. He didn't want this. Didn't want to be pricked and prodded at anymore. He wanted to move, to flee from this dark portal of his mind and escape. He wanted to move! His brow creased in concentration and he felt his body tense, hands curling into fists. _"Do not resist. You are mine. You shall do as I say."_ He rolled his eyes, feeling the tendrils of anger tickle his mind. Dean Winchester had come to find that he'd never taken orders well from anyone but his father. The shadows began to make high pitch whines from low in their throats that made him wince and he wished desperately that he could cover his ears. Something caressed the side of his face.

Move. He had to move. Sam would be disappointed if he knew how easily this thing had taken control of him. He couldn't let his little brother know how weak he was by letting this possessive SOB take control. Sam. The imaginary sewing string that'd been holding him still began to unravel.

"_Let go. Give up."_

"Like hell I will!"

With a quiet sound of discomfort, he jerked upright in bed, breathing fast and skin clammy with sweat, his boxers and t-shirt soaked in it. His fingers dug into the damp bed sheets and he glared at the motel's wall as he watched the shadows slink away into nonexistence once more. He willed them not to come back and lowered himself back down without looking away from the place they'd disappeared.

What was happening to him? Why was this happening to him? He hadn't dissed any witches lately. Well…he didn't think he had.

His brother shifted in the bed next to him, drawing his gaze from the walls. For a selfish moment, he wanted his brother to wake up, to lay with him and watch for the shadow creatures. He didn't want to do it alone.

Dean pulled his hand back before it could touch Sam's shoulder and swung his legs over the side of the bed, feeling guilty. What would be the point of them both not getting any sleep? With a weary sigh, he lurched to his feet and made his way to the bathroom, eyes catching the red glow of the alarm clock on the night stand. One o'clock in the morning? Good lord, it was gonna be a long night.

"Dean?"

Not again! He jumped, whirling as his he searched frantically for the creeping darkness. All that was there was Sam, sitting up on his elbows, watching him with squinting eyes. _Don't look guilty, don't look guilty. You were only going to use the bathroom. _"Uhhh…'sup, Sam?" He said, surprised when his voice came out hoarse, as if he'd overused it. _Smooth, Dean, real smooth. _

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. "'Sup, Sam?' Really?"

His mouth opened and closed several times but he just settled for a shrug. With a look, Sam began to rise, and with a stake pressing into his spine that read 'say something before you make your little brother loose a night of sleep,' He put his hands up. "No! Don't worry about it, Sammy! Just going to the bathroom."

He was still getting the eyebrow.

"Really! Gotta drain the lizard, man."

The eyebrow was replaced with the usual 'My older brother is disgusting' face and Sam just shook his head at the word choice before rolling over to face the opposite direction. "Nasty." Was mumbled groggily into his hotel pillow and Dean took that as a sign to quietly enter the bathroom. But not before he had the chance to nab the laptop from its case.

=3

He'd been trying to ignore the sun shining on him for the past ten minutes now. With a low growl, he rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, causing white spots; the strong smell of coffee assaulting his nose was slowly bringing him back to conscience. He smiled sleepily. It was a special day when Dean actually brought coffee.

"I also got some egg muffins, lazy. So, if you want some, I suggest you get up before they get cold."

Damn. Who liked cold eggs, right? He had to wake up now. His eyes cracked open and he took in the sight of Dean leaning over him with a McDonald's bag dangling in the space between them. He almost rolled his eyes at the sight of his brother's grinning face before he noticed how exhausted he looked, dark circles and freckles standing out shockingly against his pale complexion.

He blinked the fogginess away and sat up slowly. "Jeez, man, what happened to you? You look awful." Sam said, trying to sound as little concerned as he could.

Dean only rolled his eyes, letting him know he'd failed at hiding his emotions, and sat down on the bed beside him. "Nightmares, Sammy. You know how it is. I look more tired than I am." _Liar. _He reached into the McDonald's bag and pulled out an egg muffin that'd already been opened and half eaten before taking a small bite.

He did know how it was. Who in their line of work didn't? But it'd still been a while since one of them had lost a whole night of sleep over it. He grimaced slightly, knowing Dean wouldn't welcome this question, but also knowing it needed to be asked. "Um…do you want to talk about it?"

To his full surprise, Dean actually looked as if he were considering it, tilting his head to the side in thought. "I will probably have to eventually." He finally said, and Sam's mouth dropped open. Coffee, breakfast, and a talk about something that would likely lead to a soap opera moment? "But for right now we should just carry on with the morning. Then we could go interview the families and what not."

With that said, Dean hopped up from his spot, patting his brother on the leg before heading over the weapon's bag. He ignored the dark hand that caressed the vein in his wrist as he dug in the bag for an extra blade. He didn't even turn his head to the eyes that followed him from the shadows beneath the beds, though he felt his throat tighten when he saw how close they were to his little brother.

_Don't give them the satisfaction of knowing you see them. _He thought, grinding his teeth as they stopped short of scraping their claws over Sam's ankles when he got up to head to the bathroom. _Don't give them the satisfaction of knowing they scare you. _

Damn them.


	3. Chapter 2

^^Heya! Thanks again for all the reviews and sorry this next chapter took so long! Just got my first job so I've been tired, ya' know? So thanks for bein' patient with me! Dean's confession is coming soon, I assure you, and I just don't want to rush it. I have a problem with rushing things in my stories, like the action parts and such, so I'm trying to take my time and make it good….It's so frickin' hard though! Anyways, I hope you enjoy my next chapter!

Chapter 2

=3

Joyce McDougall was a well-kept woman with bloodshot eyes, her brown hair cut close to her head. When they knocked on the door, her first action was to wildly throw it open and shout, "I've had enough cops! Get lost!" At them before slamming it shut in their stunned faces. But even more stunning was that before they had a chance to come back from the shock of the action, she was yanking it back open and ushering them inside.

She smiled at their confusion and motioned for them to sit down while she went to prepare a pot of coffee.

"Sorry about that." She murmured somewhat shyly, cheeks flushing as she handed them each a mug of black coffee. "I'm very….stressed at the moment and you guys just keep pushing and pushing…" The grip on her mug tightened and her face scrunched in agitation before smoothing again. Dean twirled his finger around his temple in the universal 'Bitch is crazy' sign and Sam nudged and elbow into his side. "Do you still think I ate my husband?"

Dean threw Sam a look. "No. That would be….we've ruled that out." _What the hell is _wrong_ with cops these days? _They'd seriously thought she'd taken a chunk out of her husband's skull? Though he supposed it wouldn't have been too much of a stretch with the things they'd held witness to over the years.

Joyce's whole body seemed to relax and she made a slight sound of distress in the back of her throat before nodding. "Good." The tension came back, if only slightly. "Then what do you want to discuss with me? Do you have any leads?"

"We can't give out too much information as of yet." Sam said, not unkindly with an apologetic smile gracing his tan face. "We'd just like to ask a couple other questions, ma'am."

At her uncertain nod, Dean leaned forward, already talking before Sam could even open his mouth. "Was your husband having any problems sleeping?"

Sam threw him a look which he tried his best to ignore. _Explain later, Sammy. _Joyce's face turned confused and she gave a slow nod. "He's been having nightmares for the past couple nights. But I don't see what this has to do with…?"

"Did he tell you what they were about?"

Her brow crinkled and she chewed on her lower lip. "What do his nightmares have to do with David's death?" She asked again. It was obvious she was suspicious of their motives. How did he explain this? He'd done a lot of digging on the internet the night before while he'd made himself a comfortable stay in the bath tub. But while he'd been able to narrow it down to a few supernatural beings, nothing explained the shadow creatures, which made him think nobody had ever reported them in fear of being dubbed crazy. A reassuring thought. Yet these things seemed real to him, felt more vivid and dangerous than a hallucination. He just needed to make sure the other victims had been experiencing the same as he.

"Please, Mrs. McDougall. Any information could be valuable to the case." Sam said, face solemn. Dean smiled at him, grateful. _Good boy, Sammy. Just go with me for now._ _I swear it's important._

The woman took the comment into consideration before she seemed to come to the conclusion that releasing info about her husband's dreams was probably harmless. "Okay. I forced him to tell me a couple nights ago after he'd waken up screaming and clawing at his face. He told me he was seeing these….black shadow things. They were following him everywhere. And not just while he was asleep." She looked uncomfortable. "He wasn't sleeping well, you know? My husband had never seen things before." Obviously the last thing she desired was for people to come to the conclusion that David was insane.

Dean swallowed hard around the lump in his throat, knowing he had to ask the next question but still finding it hard to voice. "How long before his death did he tell you about his nightmare?"

"I don't know….umm, three maybe four days before?"

Dean let Sam handle the talking after that, his brain going on overload while his body went on lockdown. He was being targeted by something. And he had at least two days before he'd hit the time limit that'd hit David McDougall. He had a pretty good idea of what was killing people, the shadows being the whipped cream to the top off this big evil pie, and as much as he hated the thought of making his little brother worry, Sam was going to want answers probably before he was eaten by this fugly.

=3

"Alright. Want to tell me about that dream you had last night now?" Sam asked the second the Impala's doors closed.

Well, his brother didn't waste time. He'd at least expected to have time to stop by the diner first and grab a burger before explaining everything. Dean cleared his throat, tapping a slow rhythm on the dash board. Ah, well. The diner would still be there after the talk. "Well. It had shadow creatures in it." Sam's head turned in his direction so fast he was surprised it didn't snap like a Twix, his eyes big and worried. "They're not just in the dreams though. Like David, I see them….everywhere, pretty much. They're in every shadow; I can see them out of the corner of my eye. They….well, anyways, I think I found out what we're hunting, Sammy." He stopped talking for a second, waiting for a response.

"Dean." Sam said after a moment of silence. "You only have two days left, according to David's case, right?"

"….Yeah."

Sam's brow furrowed and he starred at the his large shoes, trying to calm his body down when all he wanted to do was lock his brother in a well-lit hotel room for a year. Damn supernatural beings were always targeting his brother. Couldn't they catch a break? They hadn't even gotten to their hotel room before the thing was messing with Dean. His eyes snagged a quick look at his brother from under the fringe of his bangs, taking in his pale complexion and wandering eyes. Was he looking for the shadows? Seeing creatures creeping along that no one but him could see? This was the last thing anyone needed, especially his brother, after having to deal with Soulless Sam. His resolve settled his nerves and doubts. He'd kill whatever was screwing with Dean and if not, he'd get them the hell outta dodge.

"What do you think it is, Dean?" Sam asked quietly, not wanting to talk loudly through the blanket of silence that'd been hanging over them.

"A Nishi. It's a Japanese lore based creature that calls people out of their homes in the middle of the night using some kind of lure. It says that it only has three tries before it's a no-go and it has to move on, but that sounds a little too convenient, if ya' ask me. Japanese lore is freaky but not extremely logical when it comes to the rules on everything." Dean explained, using his hands as he talked, Sam noticed in amusement.

Dean snuck a look at his brother, wanting to see how badly Sam was taking it, and then looked back out the window with a small grin. Sam seemed to be in full 'Save Brother' mode, eyes full of mixed emotions, hands clenched in his lap. His lips were pressed together in thought as his mind processed all the new information. Nothing, he knew, could stand in the way of Sam when he was like this and it made Dean feel a little better about the situation, even as dark fingers scraped at his jeans from beneath the car seat.

Even if things went a little haywire before they were fixed, Sam was Sam and they _would_ fix it together. And just like that the contagious smile that hadn't made its appearance since the day before danced across his face.

=3

"_When ya' gotta go, ya' gotta go," _as the guy in the Jurassic Park said just before the T-Rex attacked. Well, in Dean's opinion, sometimes you should really just hold it. This was one of those times he should've just held it. They'd agreed to go out to the local diner for an early dinner after interrogating the rest of the victims under the pretense that the results were going to be the same. Turns out how much time you had after the Nishi picked you was determined on how strong said person's will was. "If that's the case," Sam said with a small grin "we have a lot more time to find the sonofabitch before our time runs out." Dean had returned the smile, feeling more hopeful than before and telling his brother that he needed to use the toilet, earning a 'Be Careful' look. Good lord, Sam had a lot of looks. Kid didn't even need to talk with all the things he could say with only a look in your direction.

The door to the bathroom slammed shut behind him as he made his way to the urinals, clipping the back of his heels. Cursing and throwing glares over his shoulder at the door, he made to unzip his fly when something thudded against one of the closed stalls. His fingers froze, hair rising on the back of his neck as he turned.

"Hello?" He peeked under the bottom of the door, but didn't see anybody's feet protruding from beneath. "Hello? Anyone in here?" No answer. The still ever present paranoia of being a hunter-not to mention the crap befalling on him- told him someone was standing on top of the toilet seat waiting for him to let his guard down. Which was ridiculous, he reasoned with himself. _Open the door then, if it's so ridiculous. _Fine, then, stupid voice of reason. He would.

Sometimes it was just better to hold it.

Hissing with glee, a grisly, black face with the red glow of its eyes locked a clawed hand around his throat, digging its nails in as its teeth stretched into a grin. Giving a choked yell and struggling for air, Dean felt the bite of nail, the tickle as his blood trailed down his neck and caught on his collar. They could hurt him. The shadows could_ hurt_ him. So far all they'd done was freak the shit out of him with their touchy-feelyness, but this was the first time his blood had been drawn. That notion froze him, and his surprise only did to the shadow's advantage.

"_Give in, Dean-o. Please?" _Ashiver raced up his spine.

That voice again. The hand tightened and the spots forming in his vision transformed to more snarling beasts of different sizes. Most tall and lean with elongated jaws, all reaching to stroke his face and hair, cooing at him. He gagged, feeling something in his throat shift and collapse beneath the hand.

"_What's it going to hurt?" _

_Uh, me? _Drool ran down his chin and he scrambled to grab the thing killing him. His eyes popped open in shock as they came into contact with the black; his fingers felt as though they were submerged in water. Dense, numbing cold water that made the ends of his fingers ache and he gasped before yanking his hand back out. A hand off beside him yanked on a chunk of hair, ghosting its teeth over his scalp.

"Dean?" Everything was pitch black now and the bite of stomach acid stung the back of his throat.

He blinked. The hands were gone, the shadows smirking and growling as they slipped back into nothingness. He fell to his knees, coughing and holding a shaking hand to his mouth. Pain sang through with every gasping breath he took and he ached deep inside. He'd almost died. He could still feel the flames of Hell licking at his boots. He'd almost died-again.

"Dean!" A large hand with a familiar tan covered his chest, directly over his heart. "Jesus, Dean, your neck." Yeah, if it looked worse than it felt, he didn't want to see. "What the hell happened?"

"Shh-hadows." It was like he'd swallowed a thousand tiny shards of fiber glass and he squeezed his eyes shut, the sting of tears being almost as painful as his airway with his brother watching. _Don't scare your brother, Dean. Well, worse than he already is. _

"Dammit…let me see you." A gentle hand, the one not currently taking up residence on his chest, lifted his chin up. There was a soft hiss of air from his brother as he took in the damage, wiping a stray tear away with the pad of his thumb and for once he didn't feel like shaking off his little brother's comforting hand. "Alright. Let's get you to the car, 'kay?"

He gave a slow nod and accepted the hands pulling him up with ease. The walk to the car was a slow one, and the waitress tried to stop them to see if they were alright but Sam just pointed at Dean-who had bundled down into his coat, hiding his neck- and told her he was ill. She'd backed off pretty quick after that, telling him to feel better. Sam thanked her and handed her a couple bills for the drinks they'd ordered, then ushered his brother outside.

Sam figured he'd have to fight for the keys and he put out his hands just to do so, but just as his mouth opened, Dean put them right into his waiting palm. Without looking at him, his brother climbed into the passenger side, wincing. If he wasn't worried before, he most certainly was now. Dean didn't give up the keys unless he was in a lot of pain and sometimes not even then.


	4. Chapter 3

^^Thank you for reading and sticking with me guys! Sorry about the waiting, as usual. I really should learn to not be lazy. My chapters have been ready to be downloaded but I've been too lazy to download them onto my other computer. Damn me. Anyways, enjoy!

P.S. reviews are always appreciated and thank you for any you've given me so far. Especially the people who reviewed me for my last chapter! Thank you so much for all the positive motivation! You are my inspiration! Well, you guys and Jensen Ackles.

Chapter 3

"_He that fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster."_

Friedrich Nietzche

=3

"Dean?" Sam called quietly through the silence in coating the Impala. All he got in answer was a soft grunt. His brother's head was presently resting against the passenger side window, still buried in his coat, his feet pulled up onto the seat next to him. That last thing concerned him a bit because Dean hated shoes on his leather seats.

His brother looked up, catching Sam starring at his feet. "Shouldn't you be paying attention to the road?" He croaked with a smirk, his face white with pain. Sam's gaze turned somewhat hesitantly back towards the road. Dean's right foot slipped off the seat and he instantly felt nails scratch over the seam in his jeans, catching on the heel of his boot before he lifted it back up. Surely his baby would forgive him, just this once. _I'll give you a nice wax after this all over. Maybe even buy a badass air freshener._

Sam grunted and his hands tightened on the steering wheel as he watched Dean out of the corner of his eye. They had to find a way out of this fast. It was time for a call to Bobby.

=3

The second he got inside the motel, Dean threw on all the lights then made a straight bee line for the bathroom while his brother pulled out his cell phone. He locked the door behind him, knowing Sam would want a look at his neck but wanting a couple of minutes to look at it himself. Consider the damage before his brother got a good look and flipped his shit.

"Damn my life," was the first thing that came out of his mouth when he saw his reflection in the mirror. This was going to put a damper on his good looks. His face was pale and drawn out, black circles painted under his eyes. His paleness seemed to illuminate the long, slender rings of deep purple went all around his neck. Pinpricks of blood where the thing's curved claws had broken the skin ran thin rivulets of red to collect at the collar of his button down.

It was nasty and his face scrunched into a picture of pure displeasure.

His original plan was to wait until Sam forced him to come out, but what sounded like a symphony of hungry whines started up on the other side of the shower curtain and he figured why not save his brother the trouble. So, putting on his best poker face, he sauntered out of the bathroom.

He smirked when Sam nearly dropped his cell at the sight of his neck. Yep, no way was he getting any _good_ attention from the ladies until the bruising cleared up; unless he made up some heroic story involving rescuing children from a bus or something. Truthfully he was actually ashamed to admit he'd already considered this notion in the car.

"I'm going to have to let you go Bobby. Yeah, thanks. I'll keep looking on my end too." Sam snapped his phone closed and took Dean's arm leading him to sit on the bed.

"I'm not incapable of walking, Sam." Dean growled, voice cracking as he shoved his brother's hand away, though it didn't seem to deter him any. Little brother had the grip of a mechanical claw when he entered mother hen mode and a stubborn streak of determination.

"Dean, your neck-" Sam cut himself off with a frustrated groan as manhandled his brother back onto the bed before going to grab his laptop from the small table in the corner. "Shut up." He huffed when Dean sent him a look as he sat himself beside his brother on the bed, back propped up against the headrest and computer in his lap.

Dean kept his glaring up for another minute, the only noise being Sam's fingers on the keyboard. He considered shoving him off the bed but he didn't actually want him to leave. So, he simply gave in, deciding he'd send a half-hearted glare every now and again to show his displeasure at being coddled. "Fine," He mumbled, shrugging to cover his gratefulness. Snagging the remote for the television, Dean got comfortable beside Sam, shoulders leaning against each other. _Why the hell not?_

=3

Something tickled his ear from behind the edge of his pillow, and he subtly shifted more towards Sam. Dirty little bastards couldn't go five minutes without pestering him. Some old horror movie was playing on the TV but he couldn't focus on it. Sam was passed out next to him, laptop on the table by the window, arms crossed across his chest, and his neck bent at an awkward angle. Someone was going to be sore in the morning. Another shift and he winced at the pain in his own neck. Well, at least they'd be sore together he thought with a small smirk.

He starred stoically at the television for a few more minutes, his eyes shifting back and forth between it and his brother. Sam would bitch his ears bloody when he woke up if Dean didn't wake him now. Putting out a hand, Dean went to touch his brother's shoulder when he felt the pit of his stomach drop out.

"_Dean, darling. Come outside." _Without his permission, a tremble went through his whole body like a bolt of lightning. Oh, hell no. Two attempts in one day? There had to be some Japanese rule against that.

To his horror, he found his tense frame respond, his legs dropping to the floor as he sat up. _No_. His gnashed his teeth together, the only visible sign of Dean fighting the call imploring him to leave his hotel room. All at once, the shadows scuttled from their asylums like a colony of fire ants, eyes of red animated with ecstasy as they went to his side. _No_. The caresses they distributed were no longer tender, but harsh, the bite of their nails leaving paths of gore in their wake.

He stood. Dean made a dismayed sound in the back of his throat as the beings piloted him away from his bed and he trailed unwillingly, feet scrapping along behind. _No, I won't go. _He fought harder, the muscles in his body straining as his eyes squeezed shut. He disregarded the creatures as they yapped at his back, exasperated by his resistance.

Something smooth and cold fitted into his palm and his eyes opened in disbelief. The doorknob. All that effort and they'd still managed to get him to the door? He'd scarcely slowed them down in their task. _Sammy. _The door swung open.

=3

In his dreamscape he was re-experiencing the sight of his brother wheezing on the bathroom floor of the restaurant as unexplained, deep bruising appeared around his esophagus. Dean's eyes were glazed over in pain and bewilderment as his hands clasped and released in the air, rivulets of blood congregating at the collar of his jacket to vanish underneath and meet once again at the band of his t-shirt.

A sense of helplessness washed over him again just as it had earlier that day. How could he help his brother fight something he couldn't see?

This time, instead of Sam rushing to the rescue, he found himself unable to move. And Dean's struggling slowly came to a standstill. His knees buckled and a final whimper of pain he collapsed face first onto the bathroom floor. _Move. You have to move_. His brother didn't seem to be breathing anymore he noticed, his heart stuttering in fear.

Then, without warning, something took a huge bite-

He came awake to an awful pain in his neck. Wincing, he reached a hand up to rub at the kink, turning to check on his brother. Who wasn't there? "Dean?" He took a glance towards the bathroom, but the door was wide open. Panic time. "Dean!" He shot up as fast as he could, his body protesting after his nap.

Where was?-there, relief flooded him when his eyes found his brother with his back turned to him, facing the open door leading out to the parking lot. "Dean, you shouldn't go outside alone right now. If you need something from the car, I'll go get it." His brother didn't move. "Dean, really just-"It was then he noticed the faint tremors running through his brother's frame, knuckles white and clenched on the doorknob. He noticed the tears in his clothing and speckles of blood next. Surprising, really, he probably should have seen that part first. There was one conclusion as to why Dean looked this way and was currently occupying their temporary doorstep and it was not good.

Dean took a slow step outside of the hotel, a low sound answering the action and Sam knew from experience it was his brother growling in frustration. _Shit_. He was at Dean's side in a blink of an eye, with no recollection of moving, almost as if he had teleported himself there. His hand grasped a trembling elbow just as his brother went to take another step out into the humid night, intending to drag him inside.

Something moved out of the corner of his eye, off to his right, and he froze, hand going to his handgun before remembering he'd left it sitting on the table by his laptop. _Stupid_. Who knew if a gun would work anyways, he hadn't found nearly enough information yet. A stray strand of hair shifted, something scrapping over the lobe of his ear, almost in a caress. Or a warning, a wet sounding hiss following in the touches' wake. He wanted to turn and look, the urge almost overwhelming but he would be leaving his brother open from the front. _Get him inside_. The hissing was getting angrier and he took a chance.

He swung away from the noise, coming around in front of Dean and seeing his face for the first time since he'd waken up, the emotion in his eyes almost freezing him again. He shoved his brother backwards just as something large swiped at their sides, the edge of something sharp tickling their ribs as they fell back. They hit the hotel room floor hard, Sam still with his arms protectively around Dean, and he looked back to catch a glimpse of what they were up against.

All he saw was a fleeting shadow, the gluttonous wails echoing seemingly from outside their door.

A/N: Again, I apologize for not having this in sooner. Everyone probably thinks I've given up on the story by now huh? I do not blame you! If it seems rushed or I've made a grievous mistake, please forgive me and thank you for all of you who read.


	5. Chapter 4

**^^Okay! First of all, thank you so much for sticking with me! Your support makes me smile and reviews make me hazardously happy. I seriously almost died choking on my own spit when I saw how many followers and favorites I had. And don't EVEN get me started on what I did when I saw the excellent reviews. You guys are awesome and I hope you like the chapter! **

Chapter 4

=3

"Dean?" Sam whispered from his spot on the floor next to him. "Dean, are you okay?"

"Besides being almost eaten, yeah." Which was true, honestly the attack in the diner bathroom had been far worse. The worst he'd gotten this time was a couple new nail marks and a good scare. His brother was giving him that famous look. "Really, Sam, I'm not hurt."

They both slowly got to their feet, eyes on the open hotel door. Sam moved to close and lock it before his brother could even think about approaching it, pouring a new salt line over the threshold. Dean watched closely from his spot, tense and ready in case something decided to try their luck with Sam. Nothing did and he let out a small relieved sound when Sam moved away from the door and came back to his side.

"Well, I think I'm done sleeping for the night." Sam stated, going straight to his laptop. "Magically, my drive for more research has been restored." His tone was part sarcasm, part guilt for falling asleep, and pure Sammy.

"Stop that." Dean said gruffly, going to his original place on the bed. "You know it wasn't your fault. Who knew the bitch would try again so soon?" Sentiment wasn't his strong point, but the last thing he wanted was his brother blaming himself for something he couldn't help.

Sam met his eyes with a small smile and Dean sent one back before clearing his throat, ignoring the slight pain as he did it. "So, did you find anything? Other than its Japanese and freaky as shit?"

Sam scoffed at his choice of words before looking once more down at his laptop screen. "There's a lot on the Beckoning Cat, which is some kind of popular cat figurine in Japan. And surprisingly it's not Japanese; really Dean, when you're doing research, you should check more than one website, the one you just so happen to pick first is not always the right one. It's originally a myth from Bengal, a place somewhere in India."

"Huh. It's usually something Japanese. I don't think I've ever had a hunt with something from…wherever."

"Oh, come on, that's not even a hard word!"

"I know. I just do it to tease you."

Sam tensed his jaw, refusing to answer Dean's mischievous smirk with a laugh. As his brother continued to just stare him down, he pointedly pulled the laptop closer to his face to avoid looking at him. Dean just rolled his eyes good-naturedly as Sam continued, "It says they can only call your name twice, and if you hear it a third time you're safe."

"Well, that's one thing they got wrong, I suppose."

"It also says it calls out to you using the voice of someone you love."

That made Dean pause. He'd believed that part to be part of his imagination, his anxiety getting the best of him and making him hear things at an inopportune moment. The creature that had been dogging his footsteps had sounded achingly familiar at some points in time, but he'd done his best to disregard it. He hadn't considered it to be part of the legend, but now that he knew it was, it made sense.

How could his body repel the voice of his mother?

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Samantha," He sighed, "That parts true. Now did your amazing research skills uncover what this thing wants exactly it? How it picks its victims?"

He could see by his brother's face, he wanted to ask him who he heard when this creature yakked at him, and he would tell him if he asked, because truthfully it wasn't a big deal-really, it wasn't. But Sam seemed to come to the decision to let it go for now, and Dean was grateful. He'd probably be confirming what he already knew anyways, because there weren't that many options, not in their line of work. "It says unknown. Some believe the victims may become Nishi themselves, but no one really knows."

"No details on how to kill it?"

"Well, according to the legend, it's a ghost."

A hopeful smile danced across Dean's pale face. "We know how to get rid of those." Ghost? They weren't afraid of no ghosts. "So all we do is figure out whose died and become some odd Ben-who cares- ghost and torch it."

"It's Bengal, Dean. You only left out the last syllable."

"I also said 'who cares'."

The glare his little brother sent his way only made him grin wider, the newfound hope of knowing what they were up against making him almost euphoric. Well, as euphoric as Dean got when there wasn't a cheeseburger in his hands anyways. Even the annoying yanking at the edges of his clothing didn't deter him any. Pick at him all you want, you bastards, he was going to enjoy setting their mistress's bones on fire, hell he'd possibly dance around it and roast some marsh mellows, just for fun.

=3

After a small spat over what they would do for breakfast, (neither of them wanting to sit in a restaurant after what happened the night before, and Sam refusing to leave Dean alone in the room.) both brothers finally getting food together before deciding to hit the library to check the obituaries.

It shouldn't have surprised him; really it shouldn't, when he caught glimpses of hateful eyes following him through the shelves. He was ashamed to admit he nearly gave a girly shriek when he removed a book from its place and found an elongated face residing behind it. Dean was just thankful Sam was sitting at a computer and hadn't witnessed him dropping the book. Last thing he needed was his little brother body guarding him as he walked through the library. That and his new sexy neck tattoo would surely have the ladies just throwing themselves at him.

He didn't usually enjoy venturing to the library, but hell if he was going to complain if it got him out of that shadowed motel room for a couple hours. He could honestly say he had never been touched this many times in his life. These things were worse than a needy girlfriend with all the prodding and caressing, it was a little ridiculous. The sooner Sam found who they were dealing with and where they were buried the better.

Dean paused, in the motion of replacing a book on a higher shelf when he heard something slithering along the carpet in the aisle behind him. Well, this was new. He slipped the book back into its' spot slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible as he turned around to face the direction of the eerie slippery drag of what sounded like a body catching the flooring.

_Slip, slip, thump. Slip, slip, thump. _THUMP. A book dropped from a shelf behind him, landing beside him.

The hairs bristled at the base his neck, standing at attention and he was suddenly very aware of his spine pressing close to the shelf behind him. A gust of hot, rancid breath tracked across his cheek and tickled his ear. Deep and wet, sounding as whatever it was plaguing him took air into its' lungs, it sounded almost ill as it struggled with it. A soft touch at the base of his back turned into a heavy weight as an arm slid to curve over his waist, hugging him between the bookcases. It was revolting and wholly intimate, the greeting of a lost lover, the ghost of a tongue to his earlobe.

_Holy shit, why couldn't he move? _

Dean ears could still pick up the slide of a body in the aisle in front of him, though the jagged breathing was so glaringly loud alongside the rapid sound of his panicking heart. Good lord, he was _panicking_. He could scarcely drag air into his own lungs he felt so frozen by the caressing heat through his shirt and the sharp prick of nails in his hip. His eyes finally caught sight of the form dragging itself along the floor from where it leaned over to peek at him above the heavy tomes holding facts on gardening. The arm tightened to follow when he jerked suddenly, his belly rebelling against the eyes that'd caught him.

_So dark, filled with agony, and hungry. So, so hungry and empty and hopeless. They stared into him, tracing over his soul with gluttonous teeth and desperate lips. He couldn't stop that, they'd have him, eat him slowly from the inside until they hollowed him out and nested in the cage of his ribs-_

"_Oh, Dean."_ His mother whispered to him, a snout full of teeth sampling the ringlet of bruises on his neck. _"We need you, lovely. We're so __**hungry**__." _

"_Starved." _The Jackals cooed at him, a chorus of glass and bones picked clean, giggling, howling from their roosts in the air ducts above and sending his body into a kind of shock as he began to shake.

"Dean?" Sam called from a couple bookcases away. "Found something, I think." There were footsteps coming in his direction, the fog of fear beginning to fade with the shadowlings as they melted back into their portals of obscure, hissing displeasure and greedy deprivation.

The arm and breathing presence wrapped around his being were the last to leave him. There was a promise of teeth pressed into the crown of his head as they drug down his skull to nip at the tendons at the knob of bone at the beginning of his spine before the apparition faded. A wash of cold came over him and Dean dragged in heavy gulps of air stale with the musk and books, his whole body shaking so fiercely it seemed to vibrate the shelf digging into his back.

Sam appeared at the end of the bookcase, his eyes going wide at the sight of his brothers' pale, quaking form. "Shit, Dean, did it happen again?" It was a dumb question, but it was out before he could stop it. "You're not allowed to be by yourself anymore, that's it." He took Dean's shaking arm and led out of the shadowed shelves, checking over him for any new injuries as he placed him the chair in front of the computer.

Dean flinched back from the nails catching at his jeans and scooted his chair far enough so the desk didn't cast a shadow over his legs. Ignoring them just wasn't working anymore and he couldn't take the feeling of them fondling him anymore. Not today, he'd had enough. Sam was gazing down at him with concern and he wasn't sure he could take that anymore today either. He wanted everything to go back to normal, he wanted to be able to sleep and eat a damned burger without worrying about a well-placed claw taking him out. He had just gotten Sam back and he couldn't even enjoy his victory.

The shaking kept up as he read through the article his brother had left up on the computer's screen. Twenty two year old Penelope Miles went missing for thirty two days before a hiker had come upon her body decomposing out in the woods. The girl had gone for a walk and gotten lost and had died from dehydration though the coroner said she'd suffered from severe malnutrition and an infected animal bite.

Well, that explained why the bitch was so damned hungry.

The wilderness had done a thorough job of trying to cover up her death, her body having been weathered away and picked over by scavengers. Her brain had been eaten clean out of her skull. Which explained her other fascination quite well.

"Sounds about right." Dean croaked out into the silence after skimming the article. He scrolled down to the bottom where a picture of Penelope smiled back at him. She was pretty, though a little plump. Her cheeks dimpled and framed by her fringe of curly, tea colored hair and a small pair of glasses perched on her nose. He couldn't help but imagine her fear as she struggled to survive the woods at night. Cold and hungry as she felt herself waste away slowly. "And you're not allowed to follow me into the bathroom, Sammy, it's just not happening."

"We'll see."

They'd found the nishi, the beast that'd been plaguing him. An unfortunate case of a good girl exposed to the harsh world and turning into one of the things he and his brother were forced to put down like a rabid animal. Shit happens.

**^^Hey guys! Thank you for reading; it's close to the end now! I'd guess one or two more chapters, depends on how long I take to write them! Sorry about taking so long, too, I get caught up reading other people's fanfic's and forget about my own. Review, if you would, I would be extremely grateful for it and thank you for sticking it out with me.**

**P.s. I know this chapter isn't very long, I'll try to make the next one longer.**


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